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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28168866">Worth Waking For</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/firenzia/pseuds/firenzia'>firenzia</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman &amp; Terry Pratchett</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>All the fluffiness because these two are just so in love, Anal Fingering, Aziraphale likes watching Crowley enjoy himself too, Aziraphale probably discovers something about himself tbh, Crowley is just a big sappy mess, Established Relationship, Fluff and Smut, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Lots of softness first and then the porn, M/M, Masturbation, POV Crowley (Good Omens), PWP, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Smut, Soft and tender</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 19:21:06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,848</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28168866</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/firenzia/pseuds/firenzia</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Crowley spends some time admiring the perfection that is Aziraphale sleeping in bed next to him. </p><p>...and discovers masturbation.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Aziraphale &amp; Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>57</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>352</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Worth Waking For</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This is a PWP one-shot companion to my series, <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/series/1405606">Love, and Other Ineffable Things</a></p><p>
  <i>What's this?? A new fic after MONTHS?? Yes, it's true! I'm soooo sorry for the radio silence, rest assured I have NOT been sitting idle. I've been working on a Good Omens AU for my non-pwp account (IneffablePenguin) and it's just getting bigger and bigger. Throw in health issues and everything is taking ten times as long lately. Anyways rest assured I do have more PWPs up my sleeve, they are not abandoned! And if you are interested in checking out my new fantasy/fairytale AU when it's ready (soooooon), go and give my other account a follow :)</i>
</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <hr/><p>At the beep of a car horn outside, Crowley’s eyes flew open.</p><p>He experienced a fleet instant of disorientation, and his sleep-addled brain processed three things in rapid succession: </p><p>First, the air didn’t smell like posh leather and brand-new electronics, but old paper and old wood.</p><p>Second, the sheets he was sprawled out and drooling on were <em>not</em> the black silk sheets from his bed, but fine Egyptian cotton. In brown tartan. </p><p>Third and most importantly...the hand resting on his bare arse was most definitely not his own.</p><p>All this flitted through his head in an eyeblink, and then memory flooded back in: He was in the upstairs room of the bookshop, of course, his home for two months now. And he was not alone. </p><p>Hard on the heels of memory came a huge grin, and he buried it in his tartan pillow for a moment to compose himself. <em>This is real.</em> Not just another useless daydream, but true and concrete. His cynical mind always liked to try and convince him otherwise while he was sleeping. It made waking up an unexpectedly emotional experience. For the first time in his life, he looked forward to opening his eyes in the morning. </p><p>With infinite care he peeled the hand away and rolled over, twisted carefully round so he could look down at the warm, soft person sleeping next to him. </p><p>Aziraphale lay on his back, blond head turned slightly towards him on the pillow. Eyes closed and breathing peacefully, looking every inch as perfect as he did every morning. His angel. His best friend. His <em>-cringe-</em> lover, now, too, though he could never in a thousand years call him that with a straight face. But still, undeniably and wonderfully true. Undeniably <em>his, </em>at long long last. </p><p>After their rather vigorous evening Aziraphale had fallen asleep without bothering to miracle himself into his neatly-buttoned pyjamas, and he was gorgeously naked under those tartan sheets. He slept with the sheet pulled modestly up to his chest, of course, because heaven forbid he be caught <em>indecent </em>while in bed with a demon. Aziraphale managed to be adorably ridiculous even when unconscious. </p><p>Crowley sighed and propped his head up against his hand, gazing down at him with an indulgent smile. It was the kind of soft, gooey smile that would never have been caught dead on his face before a couple months ago, but like so many other things…times had changed. </p><p>Those soft lips parted slightly as he exhaled. Crowley leaned close for a moment, sorely tempted to kiss them, to taste them and drink them in- but he resisted. Barely. He bit his own lip and eyed the plush mouth. There would be plenty of time for that later, he assured himself. They had all the time in the world, now. There would be time today for more slow kisses, for clasped hands, for pinned wrists to the mattress and languid twining together in the dark under the blankets. There would be time to explore every ethereal inch of him with his tongue again when he woke up. But it was still so rare to catch his bright-and-chipper-morning angel sleeping, so for now he just lay there and drank him in with his eyes like a fine wine. </p><p>After more than six thousand years Crowley knew the details of Aziraphale’s features better than his own; they were engraved on his heart, but he never tired of looking. He ran his eyes now over the contours of his chin, that perfectly fussy upward tilt of his nose. The pale eyelashes casting faint shadows on rounded cheeks. The way his blond curls caught the early morning sun and turned pure lily white; the pale pink mouth that smiled so easily (and did so many other, equally fascinating things easily as well). Crowley knew all of those features by heart and soul, and now…after two months together, he knew them very well by touch, too.</p><p>The memory of that recent touch sent another thrill of temptation through him, an irresistible stirring this time that became a pleasant warm throb between his legs. In a blink that throb had expanded to press up fully erect and ready against the bedding. He closed his eyes and grunted at the sudden sharp pressure. <em>Behave, damn it. There's no rush. </em></p><p>His body was unconvinced. </p><p>Bloody hell. And to think he’d always considered the human weakness for sex to be a bit of a joke. He hadn’t understood it, not really, other than in an academic sense. Just part of his job, just another tool in his demonic arsenal.</p><p>Until after Armageddon, that is. <em>Then </em>he had felt the first stirrings of something at once alien and familiar, a new dimension to the old love and longing that had plagued him for all those millennia. And to his utter shock, the thing that Hell had always used as a weapon, as something meant to hurt and deceive and tear people’s lives apart, felt...pure. Being with his angel in this human way felt joyful and cleansing.</p><p>He understood now. The joke was definitely on him, because did he ever understand now. Crowley looked at Aziraphale lying there, at the gently curved shape of him, at the hint of white chest hair peeking above the clutched edge of the sheet...and it was enough to send blood racing frantically to all kinds of interesting places.</p><p>Perfection. Utter perfection.</p><p>Crowley had two fully working eyes, snakey though they were. He was fully aware that Aziraphale’s face and body looked nothing like what you’d see featured in films, or magazines, or certain kinds of websites; he had never looked like all those celebrated epitomes of human beauty. And over Crowley's millennia on earth he’d seen every possible human variation, be they tall, short, thin, thick, pale, or dark - all the supposed paragons of physical perfection.</p><p>His opinion could be neatly summarized as: <em>meh.</em> Those myriad other faces, those other bodies, failed to stir him. And not always for lack of trying on their part.</p><p>Crowley tilted his head slowly to the side and raised an eyebrow. He reached out with thumb and forefinger and gingerly lifted the sheet up, just a little. He peeked underneath, then carefully replaced it. His mouth curved into a slow, very satisfied smirk. <em>Yeah</em>.</p><p>Humans, he decided, had no taste at all.</p><p>That peek did nothing to help his self-control. Fresh desire swelled in him, hot and urgent, demanding, and this time he let out a slow involuntary hiss as he pressed his hand against himself. <em>Mmmmh. </em>It felt so good that he rubbed his palm up over that hard arch again, pressing it flat to his belly. His breath caught, and this time he had to stifle a moan.</p><p><em>Hm.</em> His hand stayed where it was, middle finger roaming idly up and down the rigid shaft.</p><p>He knew full well that humans wanked all the time. It was impossible to miss, even if he hadn’t had his own very thorough demonic education, what with the way films and plays constantly made sly little jokes and coughed into their sleeves about it. In that way and many others, humans hadn’t changed one single bit since time began, the dirty bastards.</p><p>But he had never done it. He’d simply never needed to. Any time he had wanted him, ever since this new awareness had flared to life inside of them both, Aziraphale had always been right there and just as eager. Any desire he had was almost always matched want for want, and he never had to wait long enough for any real pressure to build up. The angel seemed to have a supernatural sense for that kind of thing, quick to notice and enthusiastically intervene when he was even slightly aroused. Those soft hands, sliding around his waist to pluck at his trouser zipper, slipping inside his pants. <em>Let me help you with that, my love...</em></p><p>The very thought of those hands was enough to send a sweet, fiery ache through him, make him shudder and twitch even harder. </p><p>But now for once Aziraphale was sleeping, and Crowley was not...and his entire impatient body cried out for relief. He hadn’t realised just how spoiled he’d become. </p><p>He gnawed his lip and looked at Aziraphale. He seemed <em>very</em> deeply asleep, eyes closed and lips softly parted, looking far more innocent than he knew him to be. Sure, he could just wake him up, but that felt…selfish. Aziraphale didn’t sleep deeply very often, so when he did he was loath to wake him, especially for something as trivial as this.</p><p>And truth be told…a small part of himself was still afraid to let him see just how desperately he needed him; how every fibre of his being longed to pull the angel into his arms and spend every second together. God, he was at serious risk of becoming <em>clingy. </em></p><p>Maybe it was time to give this particular human habit a try as well. Just to relieve some pressure. </p><p>He eased away from Aziraphale to the far edge of their bed, moving as smoothly as he could so not to jostle the mattress.</p><p>Right. Okay. Like humans do. Piece of cake.</p><p>He thought of those hands again, the way his angel always touched him, and he gingerly closed his own fingers around himself, making a fist. He pulled experimentally upwards, and had to quickly swallow a moan as it tried to climb up the back of his throat.</p><p><em>Wow. </em>It felt <em>good</em>. Not as perfect as when Aziraphale did it, but a damn sight better than just lying here aching with need. And with just a little imagination...</p><p>Crowley had always had a very strong imagination.</p><p>He drew his knees up, wiggling a little, getting comfortable and taking hold of himself more firmly. He miracled a portion of lubricant into his palm and began to slowly run his hand up and down the erect shaft, lingering at the tip, stroking his fingers around and down. He explored the sensations, the levels of pressure, testing to see what felt good and what felt better, letting his mind wander. His breath caught as he- <em>ah-</em> gripped a little harder, figuring out the right rhythm. He told himself it was his angel touching him, making his skin prickle and heart race. It wasn’t that difficult; Aziraphale’s warmth was next to him and his familiar smell all around him in their soft bed, and with his eyes closed he could believe it. That made his breath come harder, almost panting now, and he fought to keep it from becoming too loud.</p><p>He stole a furtive glance to the side, but to his relief Aziraphale still lay blissfully asleep and entirely unaware. God…he <em>wanted</em> him.</p><p>Emboldened, he began to move his hand faster, stroking himself the way his angel always did. His mind flashed back to the night before, pleasantly drunk on the sofa in the back room downstairs: Aziraphale's tongue down his throat and hand down his pants as he snogged him senseless, velvet waistcoat hanging with shirt collar torn open and... and oh, holy <em>shit</em>… Goosebumps sprang up all over his skin, his mouth opened in a silent gasp. He could feel every beat of his own heart against his throat and chest. He indulged in a very, very soft moan, closing his eyes again and shifting his hips a bit in time with each pump of his- no, <em>Aziraphale's</em> fist. He touched himself, and now Aziraphale was pinning him to the sofa with a hand on his chest. Holding him effortlessly in place while his other hand wrapped tight around his sex, rubbing a teasing thumb over the head, stroking faster and faster. Working him into a frenzy.</p><p>
  <em>Yes, angel, like that. Please, touch me, take me. Want me. I’m yours. </em>
</p><p>Now he conjured the feel of Aziraphale’s solid arms around him as he tumbled him into bed, the scrape of teeth against his throat. Aziraphale’s tongue gliding down his chest, down his stomach, and lower... Crowley imagined that perfect wet mouth closing around him, and the very thought made him gasp aloud. He held his hot, slippery sex tight with both hands, undulating his hips, thrusting his erection hard into his fists, and he threw his head back as he barely stifled another deep groan. <em>Mmh</em>. <em>Yes, fuck, please angel, faster. More.</em> <em>More, more, more more moremore… </em>With a grunt he slipped a finger inside himself, and a small mewling noise escaped him as he found a particularly sweet spot and kept his fingers there. His breath was coming in ragged, open-mouthed gasps now, knees drawn up tight, head arched back into his pillow. His hands were Aziraphale’s hands, on him and <em>in</em> him, those gorgeous, exciting, <em>talented </em>hands that so carefully turned the pages of old books with little white gloves, that performed ridiculous magic tricks, delicately stirred sugar into his tea with thumb and forefinger, and ran their manicured nails through his hair, oh, oh, oh <em>Christ...yes…yes…</em></p><p>He felt himself fast approaching it, could feel the orgasm building, and turned his head towards him again. He wanted to be looking at that beautiful face when he came.</p><p>Aziraphale’s blue eyes were open and on him, staring.</p><p>Crowley flinched and froze like a startled rabbit. He was hot and flushed, panting, and his hands were absurdly, incriminatingly visible. There could be no possible doubt as to what he had been doing.</p><p>“I- shit. Sorry, uhm…” He cleared his throat, breathless. He cast about for something dignified to say, but there was no dignity to be found. It didn’t help that all the blood in his body was currently clenched between his hands rather than in his brain, though that was the only reason he wasn't blushing fit to die. He gave up and tried on a grin instead. “Hey, angel.”</p><p>“Good morning, my dear,” Aziraphale replied with a smile. There was a pink flush high in his cheeks. His eyes were very bright. He moved over to lie on his side next to him, smoothed an affectionate hand across his chest as he looked him slowly up and down. “Well. You certainly looked like you were enjoying yourself. Don’t stop on my account.”</p><p>“Sorry, uh...you were asleep and I didn’t want to bother...uhhh...what?” Crowley’s struggling train of thought ran smack into a brick wall as the last part of what he said trickled through. </p><p>Aziraphale’s face shifted into a perfectly impish smile, the one that always made his heart beat faster. “There’s no need to stop, darling. No need to apologise.” He stroked his cheek with gentle fingertips, the same fingers he had just been fantasizing so vividly about, and pressed a soft kiss to his lips. His voice was quiet and slightly husky. “That can’t be very comfortable at all. Why don’t you go ahead and finish up, hm?” </p><p>“Uhhh...” Crowley blinked up at him, overwhelmed by his touch, his nearness. Everything south of his belly was indeed throbbing painfully from the last-second halt. </p><p>“If it’s alright…if you don’t mind, might I stay and watch?” Aziraphale blushed furiously red to the roots of his pale hair, but didn’t avert his gaze.</p><p>Crowley's jaw went slack, and he had to swallow a couple times to find his own voice. “Fuck,” he said eloquently at last. “I- I mean… <em>yeah,</em> yeah it is. Alright. 'Course. Definitely stay.” Dear Satan, it was more than <em>alright. </em></p><p>Heart pounding, he held the blue eyes and began stroking himself again. Any firmness he had lost quickly replenished itself at the way Aziraphale’s breath caught, at the way he licked his lips. <em>Y</em><em>ou like that, do you?</em>  With a start Crowley realised that he could feel the angel pressing hot and stiff against his leg, and it was enough to make him moan. He let himself, relishing the new freedom.</p><p>“Oh. That’s it, my darling,” Aziraphale whispered breathlessly. His eyes were locked intent on his face. “You’re so beautiful like this.”</p><p>The words sent a sweet thrill through him, and another moan climbed up the back of his throat as he sped up. Even with his eyes closed he could feel Aziraphale’s gaze heavy on him, on his flushed-red erection. Could feel the tingle of his regard as viscerally as the touch of his own hand, and God, who knew that just being <em>looked </em>at could feel so good...</p><p>“Look what you do to me, angel,” he breathed. He met Aziraphale’s eyes again and gave himself a firm squeeze, making them both gasp. Oh, he was so hard, so deliciously hard. “I was thinking about you, you know,” he murmured. "Thinking about last night. Got me so worked up I couldn’t wait." His lids fluttered shut as his eyes rolled back.</p><p>A warm arm slid under his back, and a hand up his neck into his hair, and suddenly he was being held <em>and</em> kissed while he pleasured himself. It was...exquisite. He wrapped his free arm around Aziraphale to anchor himself, held on to him too and redoubled his efforts, moaning in time with each quickening stroke of his hand. He could feel the angel’s pounding heart where he lay against his chest.</p><p>“I’m -<em>ah – </em> thinking about you touching me," he murmured against his lips. "Putting your fingers inside me. <em>Mmmh.</em> Making me come.” <em>Please, please touch me.</em></p><p>Aziraphale’s breathing grew ragged, and he swallowed hard. His hips had begun to shift against him, rubbing that hard length on his thigh. “May I?” he asked. Fingertips stroked down him, over his flat stomach and the jut of his pelvic bone. He slid a hand between his legs and traced the soft, sensitive line between his thighs with his middle finger, up one side and down the other, thumb extended to press the rigid base of him. “Like this?” That middle finger dipped lower, circling gently at his slicked opening. "Or...here?"  </p><p>Crowley let out a soft whine, and Aziraphale slid a manicured finger slowly, carefully deep inside him. Then another.</p><p>“Like that, hm?” Aziraphale whispered, and exhaled shakily. “Go on, then, my love.” He kissed him again and bit at his lip, not quite gentle. “Show me how you want it.” Fingers twitched inside, making Crowley gasp. </p><p>“Nnggk. Aziraphale…” he whispered, trembling. “Angel…” He moved his hand, stroked himself just so, and the fingers inside moved with him in sync. He didn’t have to imagine anymore; his angel was holding him, touching him, and it was absolutely perfect. Each pulse of fingers was glory, heat and ecstasy building into an irresistible pressure and forcing moans from his lungs. </p><p>"Oh, just look at you. You lovely thing.” </p><p><em>”Nngh.” </em>Crowley’s feet were flexing, toes curled as he shifted his legs. He needed him, he needed to finish, he needed to show him how perfectly he was touching him. “<em>Mmmh</em>. Y- you’re going to make me come,” he whispered. He was grit-teethed and quivering, barely holding back, he wanted to so badly. “I can c-come for you, if you like, just tell me.” <em>I want you to be the one to tell me. Please tell me. </em></p><p>Aziraphale's cheeks were flushed, and he was panting through parted lips. His gaze burned on Crowley’s skin, raw and intimate and infinitely tender. He placed an unhurried kiss on his throat, then raised his head and looked into his eyes. “Come for me, love,” he breathed, and it was like releasing an arrow from its string.</p><p>Fresh chills washed over his entire body. Crowley cried out as Aziraphale’s fingers pressed deep; he moaned in ecstatic relief and frantically stroked himself, pumped his fist as fast as he could while his back bowed into an involuntary arch. He hung there for a second nearly upside down, feet curled to points, eyes rolled back and unable to form a coherent thought. Keening in pleasure, and- “Oh, <em>fuck, </em>angel yes,<em> yes, yes</em>…” He spurted out over his knuckles and onto his chest, again and again, writhing in perfect, fulfilling pleasure. </p><p>He was aware of Aziraphale moaning and thrusting against him, rutting against his leg to bring himself off. The moment Crowley regained some control of his limbs he reached down and took hold of him, helped him for the five or six strokes it took to send him over the edge too. And it was beautiful,<em> beautiful</em>. The angel pressed his forehead to his chest and clutched at him as he came, groaning deep in his throat with that raw, uninhibited sound he always made, the glorious sound that would have had him touching himself all over again if he hadn’t just come ridiculously hard. If his thigh muscles weren’t liquid and trembling, his arms too heavy to work properly. </p><p>"Good Lord," Aziraphale breathed at last, as they lay there catching their breath. He didn't lift his head. </p><p>“Yeah," Crowley agreed faintly. “Whew. That was... that was a thing.” Aziraphale chuckled once, still face down against him, and Crowley laughed too, a full throated laugh of pure happiness that had little to do with his comment and everything to do with his armful of warm, naked angel. Everything to do with the soft body pressed all along him. “Here...”</p><p>A snap of his fingers miracled away the mess, leaving them both clean and dry.  </p><p>“Mm, thank you. Such a gentleman."</p><p>"Ugh. You take that back." He ran a hand down his spine, pressed his mouth to the fluffy white hair and closed his eyes. "Sorry I woke you up, angel. Got a bit carried away." </p><p>"Hush. I'm glad you did.” Aziraphale finally looked up at him, and his eyes sparkled wickedly. "Imagine if I had missed out on that."  <br/>
<br/>
“Ngggh. But that was the whole idea. I only did it in the first place because I didn’t want to bother you. Sorry.” Crowley sighed.</p><p>“My dear, ridiculous demon." Aziraphale rested his chin on a folded arm now, and regarded him in fond exasperation. "In case I haven't made it quite clear, I love you more than anything in this world, and certainly more than sleep. You’re well worth waking up for." </p><p>Crowley swallowed. His heart felt too big for his chest, but today the words came easily: "I love you too. I just...I know that we have forever, now. I don’t want to rush you.”</p><p>The angel beamed. "No fear of that. <em>I</em> don't want to miss a single moment of you, darling. I went through far too much trouble to get you, and I daresay we've wasted plenty of time already." His eyes dropped to linger on his lips. "For instance, you are wasting precious time right now. Fretting about that nonsense, when you have more important things to do." </p><p>"Is that so?”</p><p>“Yes. That’s so. Must I draw you a diagram?” Aziraphale leaned in close, nearly a kiss but not quite, and there was a leap of fresh heat between them. "Crowley," he murmured seriously. "Bother me." </p><p>Crowley did. </p>
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